


The Price We Pay

by Makilome



Series: Fatalia Anima Conterminum Amatores (The Bound Lovers) [1]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: F/M, Romance/Angst/War Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makilome/pseuds/Makilome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come. The battlegrounds for the final Quickening has been chosen. Sequanna MacLeod, the only Immortal daughter of Connor MacLeod and Isoldie Eegis descends upon Santa Carla, the chosen fields of the last battle of her kind. But she comes to find that there is more than one brand of immortal that walks and rides the Boardwalk, and the end of her battle with the monsterous Sammael is just the beginning for her, the dream watcher (Dwayne) and their pack, and for those destined to complete Max's fold. Can the Boys after learning the terrible secrets of the true immortals help meet Sammael's challenge and then turn her, stopping the madness of the Immortal Game once and for all? And who are the other 3 sisters meant to complete the Pack? And more than that, will one sister be the key to saving or breaking the world?</p><p>This is a Series so it starts with Sequanna/Dwayne. Other stories will lead into the mutant war with Paul/Anna Marie D'Ancanto (Rogue), Willow Rosenberg/David, and Marko/Dawn Summers as all gradually are led to the enevitable fight against The First, and the Army of Blackthorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price We Pay

Fatalia Anima Conterminum Amatores  
(The Fated Soul Bound Lovers Series)

The Price we Pay  
pairing: Sequana MacLeod and Dwayne Iyokpaza  
Crossover: Highlander/Lost Boys

 

Chapter One: Those who Live by the Sword

And it had come,   
the final lightning strike  
and it was her that held the light  
and the one she trusted who twisted the knife  
live to kill, kill to live, with a sword stroke it was done

Finished till the next onslaught would show  
fake dream of peace stolen from her father’s dreams  
time sent back a old new enemy  
arrogance and hatred had restarted everything  
That this would be different she could only hope.

The last immortal, the power of the ages  
lightning coursing through her veins  
and she was called to fight or fade  
and yet she felt out there someone who was the same  
who watched with unseen eyes on which she wish to gaze.

Dreams of dark hair and black eyes of fire  
A sufferer of torments of his own kind  
immortality demands such a terrible price  
but something made it different this time.  
The challenge uttered she turned to spring in the mire.

And this time he was there  
she needed no power to feel him  
they needed no words between them  
before the worlds it was always her and him  
and she would win, and he would share.

And at long last she would declare one price  
One they would not dare deny.  
Give her back the heart of her life  
She would know him from sight  
though these eyes never spotted his own in this life.

And yet she felt him watching, knowing and not knowing  
all would come with time.  
-The Final Lightning Strike by Makilome

Sequana McLeod

A thousand teachers and to many deaths then she cared to count had lead up to this moment, this final bout. She had loved him once, her foe. Rialin Hoster, sandy hair and silver eyes. But that was when she to hungered for power. When she too wished for nothing more than to be the last standing. THey had took their code from the original Four Horsemen, Railin, her, Madden, Herioda. Countryside to countryside, village after village. They hunted the others down one by one, and there was only one rule. Never turn on anyone within the pack. But something had changed. Sequana got a up close and personal look at Railin and Madden’s cruelty when they sought to rape a six year old girl with a sword. She had intervened, murdered her compatriot in cold blood and took his power. And with his death came a realization. THis was not all there was. They were not put here simply to kill. The fragile mortals of this world deserved more than their mindless cruelty. And so, without a word, she came, the blood of Railin and Madden still dripping from her blade as she packed on to her horse. Herioda did not need worlds to know what took place. Another needless death. And she left, she ran and ran, seeking refuge from the Game that sought to claim the lives of all who play. But challengers came for her, all the same. Her name was known. Any new immortal looking to make a name would try to dance with her. They never listened to her warnings. And when the blood that covered her hands and her soul weighted her down till she could no longer go forward, she returned to the only one who could save her. The only one who still believed that she could still have good left inside her. The one who had beaten the Quickening once before. She travaled the long miles, on horseback, a penance as well as a dark bit of nastagla to the highlands that had been her home when the world was still a good place.

She went to the old home, still in repair as though by stepping through the straw roof of the highland home she could go back in time and start again. Smoke rose in circles. “And so we seek salvation in the places where we were free, of stain and of care and of toil. And all the guilt never touches it somehow.” the lilting voice of her father, weighted down by his own sorrows beckoned her in. There were no hugs or tears for them. They never needed that. It was words and deeds that mattered. And everytime it did, he would save her from herself. But that time was coming to a close. The last group of immortals left wondering around the world could be counted below 30. The lightning jumping in her own skin told her that the time had come again, time for the Quickening, perhaps finally, the last. “You wish to find honor again, Sequana. But the blood never really leaves us. But we can do right for those who can not for themselves. You are to be the last of us, my daughter. But you knew that before you came, didn’t you?” his voice still held that magical quality it held so many years ago.

“I knew. You went to fight Duncan. You meant to loose.” it was matter of fact. She did morn for her cousin. Duncan had been good to her. But that is how it was, amongst their kind. Family ties do not matter anymore and had not since the terrible game had been restarted. “He fought well, but he fought to die. He fought to find that one thing that you and I will never see.” he said. “Peace” she answered sadly. He turned and gave her the smile of a father that aged so much, and yet so little. “You are, even now, the best of us, my little one. My one little miracle that they couldn’t take from me. Child of two Immortals. This is how it is meant to be. My last fight comes upon the rise of the moon. You are here because you will not let me leave this place alone, and you want to know if there is peace on the other side. Yet, death is not the peace for you, little one. Not in the way you think.” he said with a knowing smile. “The dream watcher is not real, Father.” she said. “But he is, and he waits for you where the Quickening comes, my child. There are other Immortals that walk this world than us. In death you will know peace. But you shall not die as I shall. You will die, and you will live.” tears began to fall from her eyes.

“Papa!” and she rushed and held him for all the times he couldn’t. “My little warrior, how I have fought to keep you safe. And how strong you have become! It is you who will finally put a end to this maddness. It is you who will finally set all of us free. And after tonight, I will be watching. I will be watching from the time your eyes set upon your destiny, till you accept it, and till you let yourself love and be free and be a part of a family that you should have always had. And you will have your Watcher, and you will have Brothers, and a sister or two, each with their own stories to tell, each with demons to out run, each who will find a home in those who are dead and yet they live. And you shall teach them that even as they are, they can still have honor, that their place can have meaning. You will do these things for me.” She shook in his arms as he rocked her back and forth. “How do you know these things?” she asked. “I always have, you were just not ready, but you are now, my warrior. My time sets, and when it does, you must take the man that stands for yourself.

He will come for you, as soon as he feels you live. And you will lead him on a chase. To the Americas you must go. Go to Santa Carla and seek for a man named Max. He is an OLD friend. He knows who you are. He will help you prepare. And he will guide you into your destiny. Now come, enough! No more tears!” He wiped the tears with his thumb that ran down her face. “I am no longer afraid. I rejoice that after so long, at long last, I shall go to my peace! Now watch, but once it is done, don’t stay to burry me. You run, you run and you don’t stop! You use your well gained sums and you make a bee-line to that city. And do not fear the Immortals that walk those streets. They are not your kind. They will sense the Lost Sister they have longed for since they became what they became. You can trust them. You can trust him.” he said. “Cryptic Papa?” she smirked. “You will know of whom I speak, when soul black eyes and those lovely deep and dark blues meet.” They were interutped by the tingling that signified one of their kind walked by.

“Stay out of sight and cloak your prescence. And when he makes the killing strike, you run and you don’t look back, not once!! Morn in the nights to come if you will, just promise me!” she gave Connor one last hug before he grabbed his famous katana, but not before handing her the most beautiful one she had ever seen. “The hilt matched the binding of your souls and mine, that way we never seperate. It is a Hitori Hansa blade. It was gifted to me by a woman who has no more desire for revenge and would see it rechristened as an instrument of peace.” it was the most esquisite thing she had ever seen! “This would cut through gods!!” she said! “Aye, it would. It is yours now, what will you name it?” she looked at him. “What was her name?” she asked. “She never gave me one. She simply called herself “The Bride”. “ he answered. Then that is what her name shall be. The Bride.” she answered. She bound the beautiful blade to her back and followed her father out of sight to his final battle.

She blessed the very day she befriended a witch, using her energy to cloak herself entirely. She did not recongnize the man he fought. He looked from the deserts of Syria, and fought with a curved blade. Her father’s skills never dulled with age, but he had grown slower. He had seen beforehand how it would go. And that she would be there. He fought hard, to not give all would mean dishonor to him. The drizzle began to drench her as it continued. But finally, the slickening ground gave way and her father fell and he was not fast enough to push himself back up. But something the victor did not expect happened. The power of Connor McLoed did not transfer to him, but found her in her hidden place, and entered into her very being. And it was like being near unto God, the power her father carried inside him! The skills, memories, discipline, temperance entered in a moment. And she rose in the grasp of that power, blowing back the victor far away and she said the immortal words that would mean the beginning of the end of the Last Game of the Immortals of the Sword. “There can be only ONE!” she bellowed, and lightening ran through out her body, penetrating every part of her, filling her, consuming. All she could do was feel, experience. 

All the sudden all the trials and the rebellions against her father’s idea of honor seemed meaningless. But she would not sit there as she was let down and mourn the loss of a father she had let down to many times. Now it was time to do right by him, and all the good Immortals who had fought with and along side him. She held on to her illusion long enough to vacate the place, setting the ancient hut on fire to leave no trace. She contacted an old friend as she made her way to the road. “Max!!” she heard a chuckle on the other end. “Hello Sequana. Did he meet his peace?” she choked out a yes. “It’s alright dear one. You are not alone as you think you are. Look down the road.” she did as she asked and there was a cab, waiting for her. “Don’t think to pack anything. The weapon you carry will not be questioned. I have seen to that. Your other needs will be taken care of when you arrive. I swore to Connor I would help you and I will. My son will wait for you when you arrive.” she began to ask him what he looked like.

Cryptic as his father he only said, when you see him dear one, you’ll know. Now take care and take what cover you can. Samael will hunt you everywhere he can catch scent of you. And there are others here that have come to fight the final fight. “His name is Samael?” she asked disgusted. “I knew Methos dear and let’s not get into the fact he was your role model for how long?” and she did laugh. “Yeah, I know. I and The Bride shall be on our merry way now. And Max, we are SO food shopping when I get there!” she got him to laugh. “See you soon my Samaurai!” he hung up and after all the horrid events, she smiled. She could feel him still, Connor. Could almost feel his smirk. “I hope you are right about my peace Papa!” she repeated over and over till she boarded the plane that would take her to another world, one she could have never imagined and into the arms of a man she had only seen in dreams.


End file.
